Sam's Day
by singerme
Summary: Just a day spent with Sam.


**Sam's Day**

I don't own these characters; I just like to spend time with them. No other profit to be had.

**SAMSAMSAMSAMSAMSAMSAMSAMSAMSAMSAMSAM**

**(Set in Season 19)**

Sam Noonan walked briskly down the boardwalk, turning the collar of his brown coat up a little against the cold autumn wind. It was early by most standards, but not to the tall, craggy faced bartender. He had a job to go to, one he loved and seldom ever missed a day of.

Once he reached the Long Branch, he swiftly unlocked the back door and let himself in. Quickly he moved to the store room and took off of his hat and coat and donned his apron. Miss Kitty, never an early riser, would most likely not be down for a while, but he had several things he wanted to accomplish before she did descend the stairs.

Though he'd never told a soul of his feelings, Sam loved Miss Kitty. Not the way the Marshal did, to be sure and not even the way Doc Adams did, but his love was just as real as theirs. Kitty Russell had given Sam a job, a home and a most importantly to him, a place to belong and people to belong to.

He was not just a bartender at some nameless saloon in a small town. He was the head bartender and sometimes interim manager of the famous Long Branch saloon in the infamous Dodge City, Kansas. But he knew; he was more than even that. Sam knew he was also a friend and protector of Kitty Russell, and that job he took more seriously than any other.

Of course, to his ever lasting shame, he'd always remember the one time he'd failed miserably in that job. The day Jude Bonner returned Miss Kitty to Dodge, beaten and abused and then shot her down, was the day that would forever grieve him. From that day forward, he resolved to put a special emphasis on keeping her safe, even if it meant his life to do it.

Clearing his head of such gloomy thoughts on a bright fall day, Sam quickly built a fire in the stove, grabbed a pail of water and began his morning's routine. The first task was to make a pot of coffee. When Miss Kitty did finally appear, that would be the first thing she would want. Of course, it wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility that Doc Adams would appear, willing to share a cup and a little conversation.

Once the coffee was on, Sam grabbed his broom and quickly swept the floor. Though that task had been accomplished, before he'd left the previous night, he always liked to give it another going over in the morning. Having that done, he stepped over to the front doors and opened them so that he could go out onto the boardwalk and sweep it down as well.

Coming back inside, he was followed by Louie Pheeters who was, Sam could plainly see, in dire need of a shot of whiskey. Miss Kitty had just come down about that time and with a wry nod, okayed a glass of her best whiskey in exchange for a few token chores to be accomplished by the poorest and usually drunkest of Dodge City's citizens.

Sam, better than most, understood Louie's need but he also understood the little man's pride so he made it clear to Louie that the drink he recieved had been well earned by the tasks he'd accomplished.

While Louie downed his wages and Miss Kitty retired to her office to accomplish some book work, Sam took up the task to stock the bar with everything needed for a busy day. Although, he'd never be able to explain it, Sam could always tell when it was going to be a busy day, and his instincts were telling him today would be just that.

An hour later, bar stocked and glasses shined and at the ready, Sam stood prepared for what ever the day would hold.

For most of the next few hours, he moved effortlessly and seemingly tirelessly from end of the bar to the other, dispensing whiskey, beer and advice or any combination of the three, as called for.

Although he seldom showed it, he was constantly scanning the room, searching for anything or anyone that might cause problems for him or his employer. With the Marshal out of town, he was especially vigilant, knowing Matt Dillon depended on him to not only keep trouble down in the liquor palace but to watch out for the lady they both loved.

Oh and if Sam knew anything, he knew the tall stoic Marshal who seldom so much as touched the saloon owner, loved her never the less. Though Sam would never tell a soul, he knew the many times that the Marshal stayed overnight in Miss Kitty's room over the saloon and he'd seen the same grief in Matt Dillon's face that he and others had worn when she'd been hurt. Yep, admitted or not, Matt Dillon loved Kitty Russell and Sam was glad for that.

Though he seldom took much time for himself during the day, Sam did sometimes enjoy an hour away from the smoky, drunk filled room to take lunch outside in the bright sunlight with nothing but himself and his thoughts. Usually on those days that he needed such a break, Miss Kitty would sense his desire to get away and take over the bar herself, ushering him out and telling him to take as long as he wanted.

Today was one of those days and with grateful smile, he removed his apron, grabbed his lunch and left the saloon by way of the back door, making use of the bench behind the building for his seat and table. He liked the solitude of this quiet back alley, where prying eyes and ears could not reach him and he could enjoy his time off without having to answer questions from the nosiest of the town's citizens, like Nathan Burke.

Though most people in Dodge knew and liked Sam Noonan, few, other than his employer, knew much about his background. He wanted it that way. The things in his past, that had shaped his present, were not for public consumption. What he had done or had not done, prior to coming to Dodge, was no one's business but his own. Of course, he knew that his silence on his past led to many rumors, much as it did to his employer.

And much like his employer, he detested rumors and rumor mongers and hated it when he or most commonly, Miss Kitty, were the targets of them. But he understood that people liked that sort of thing. Rumors were fascinating, especially scandalous and salacious ones and working behind the bar, he was privy to most of them. He just didn't enjoy them.

Having eaten a peaceful and fortifying lunch, Sam smiled contentedly and returned to the bar room and his duties. Most of the afternoon was spent in constant motion. Whether rolling yet another barrel of beer up from the basement or clobbering a drunk on the head with a mallet, when he persisted in trying to take liberties with Jenny, Miss Kitty's newest girl, or drawing beer after beer for the thirsty men who patronized the saloon.

Unflagging in his vigilance over, not only the saloon, but his employer and fellow employees as well, Sam worked tirelessly. Glasses were cleaned, the bar was wiped and liquors of all kinds were dispensed, all with the same attention to detail. His dark eyes seldom missed much of anything, including the crooked gambler who'd managed to slip a card up his sleeve.

Starting around the bar, he was about to evict the gentleman, when Kitty stopped him with a hand on his arm and a shake of her head. In quiet amazement, he watched as she walked over to the table, and with a few words, ushered the man from the saloon. When he threatened to come back and "settle things" with the saloon owner, Sam stepped around the bar, shotgun in hand, and made sure the crooked little man understood that he'd have a fight, should he try such a thing.

Busy as the afternoon had been, the early evening seemed to be taking a turn for the opposite end of the spectrum. Doc Adams came by and collected Miss Kitty for supper and when she returned, Sam took a short break before returning to a much livelier bar room. Apparently, the drinking men of Dodge had woken up.

Quickly claiming his place behind the bar, Sam swung into action and began to work alongside his employer and Fred, the other bar tender. When things slowed down a touch, Kitty made a request and Sam disappeared into the back room, returning a few minutes later with his fiddle.

Perching upon the bar top, Sam played that fiddle for two solid hours. Soft tunes and fast, all were played with an expert hand and a gentle smile.

When at last the evening was done, Sam put away his instrument and began the task of returning the bar room to the shape it'd been in when the day had begun. Though his boss and Fred and the girls had pitched in to help, Sam took it as his personal responsibility to see it that all the work was done to perfection.

Just as he was the first into the saloon in the morning, Sam was the last out at night, save for Miss Kitty, who lived there. "Good night, Miss Kitty." He smiled at his friend and employer as he donned his hat and coat and started for the door. Receiving her echoing reply, he nodded and walked out; closing the door firmly behind him, not moving until he heard the lock turn and knew Miss Kitty would be safe for the night.

Walking back down the boardwalk towards his home, Sam wore a tired but happy expression. His day had been no different from many others he'd spent. But it had never the less been a good day. He'd worked hard and earned an honest day's wages. The people he cared about were safe and happy as well and he would get to see them again come the morrow.

Smiling as he turned the corner leading to his place, Sam figured it couldn't get any better than that.

The End


End file.
